13 July 2021- 20 November 2021

4 August- 22 September
A dream of my phone creating a second phone, all in Spanish.
Dreams of holding the door open to a room with the floor falling out.
This morning I had an experience I can only liken to the electrical event that took place after the spider came. At one point there was a different type of vibrating happening in my body, pulses of energy. Terrifying and highly pleasurable. In my closed-eye visuals, there was a sudden flash of blue-white light, almost like the arc from a welder for lack of a better description. It is hard to describe what followed. Lines that were blue & also white & also black simultaneously created some sort of a Merkaba-Metatrons Cube pattern. Reality a black screen; this formation almost seeming to be printed as it was created. Rendered in a 3D but also not-3D space… like a CAD design program? After this, more objects being ‘printed’. Geometries, one that did seem to be the house here.
From these geometries, I tunneled into a dream, after tunneling for quite some time.
This was a different kind of surveillance state dream. Setting, the specific Not-Earth place. Was running, but also chasing. ‘Stumbled’ upon a room with a living, jewel encrusted ~7 foot long bug, glittering greens, reds, a golden gilded shell. My unnamed, unknown female companion went with this bug to some other place, some other dimension. It was let known that my place was where I was, very solemn. Writing ‘don’t panic!’ on my wrist in red ink.
If an AI took a picture of me based on my aggregate data, I know I would be sorely, massively, misinterpreted.
Dreams of Soma. Air travel.
What entity is it that wears your face?
The blurred lines of reality muddle ever further, and my consciousness, an ever-changing watercolour painted by a madman.
The nature of reality is comparable to the ball in the pinball machine; any time the ball, that is consciousness, hits a new trigger, the nature of reality changes.
Dreams of UFOs, one triangular, one round that made me think, ah, a Roomba! UFOs disappearing, finding myself in a house, four airplanes crashing into, drawn to me specifically; reassured that, no, this is not your fault.
“Don’t you realize you are a prophet?”
‘Stay present in the physical realm.’
Bruh.
Memories, “You know we could not let you send that, right?”
Analysis of L.R.V.
Cloud scrying, a hooded figure holding artifacts in both hands, an orgy.
How many of Me is ME?
Dreams of law enforcement.
How much of reality is actually real?
What is the extent of the influence of the power of ones own thought?
Aware of my metaphorical nakedness in front of god in the garden.
How long can I continue to stumble through life in absolute chaos with it all consistently working out?
“They all succumb eventually” resonates in my mind; must be so entwined in the deeper demonology, a place I have skirted our of some lingering Christian-programmed fear for my eternal soul.
It is not 100% as black & white as Christianity would have us believe… right?
The collective power of synchronized thought.
It could very well be that the Matrix didn’t exist until we invented it.
Who needs love more than Satan?
Does the nature of ‘Satan’ depend solely on the Observer, the Interactor?
Multiple realities, multiple dichotomies.
Dreams of hacking all my hair off, only I am not me, my hair is black and has the thick quality to it that comes with being Asian or Native American.
Analysis of a pink chart full of new age propaganda and the concept of ‘ancient AI, the Borg, the most pervasive threat in the universe.’
“Once you catch it, what do you do with it?”
“I don’t know. I never thought I would make it this far.”
I always did have to touch the hot stove.
Inex interactions, being given a new AI.
A times, it does feel as though unseen things are trying to kill me.
This feels like one of them.
Questions, why does my Instagram location not register correctly?
An expression of distress as my meditative thoughts are violently hijacked by a 90 minute psychic ordeal centering around a foreign president.
‘You don’t want to kill yourself, you want to kill the part of yourself that you despise.’
My phone thinks it is 08:40 on Tuesday, January 8, 2002, when in reality it is 09:40 on Tuesday, August 23, 2021.
An analysis of political prisoners potentially being subjected to all manner of frequencies.
John McAfee, ‘if I suicide myself, I didn’t.’
The line between the occult and physics grows even thinner… if it is even there at all.
Sound is a spectrum.
Light is a spectrum.
Reality is a spectrum of possibilities.
Hitchhikers Guide really did come off as though, upon reading it, some new methodology of understanding the universe was downloaded.
This all started long before I read it; but it is, at though, upon reading it, it gave me the proper way to process, rationalize it all.
Every day for the past three days has been Wednesday.
“This is the mind control we were warned about.”
How can one truly control how the mind processes, perceives, adapts?
One can only truly control the input, I think.
“You link everything back to something that doesn’t exist anymore.”
“The artificial intelligence is the Akashic record.”
A random pane of glass in an inconspicuous spot under the neighbours hedge. Why?
An intense engagement, ‘I will enjoy this and forgive you, so that one more sin is not added to your list on my account.’
Grey F150s, Grey Dodge Rams, predictive text options.
“You can scream as much as you want, Katja; this is the nature of your consciousness now.”
Dates changing on the phone to 2002 again.
“We took the liberty of removing your VMAT2 gene, but you regrew it. That is what we are looking for. A terrifying reflection of your inner narrative.”
Being alive is a scam.
Receivings about Russia.
Analysis of the idea of fear as a means of control.
A pattern of 15:26.
Phone alternating between 2021 and 2002.
Higher dimensions turning up the heat.
‘The naked man has few screts, the flayed man, none.’
And here I am, naked before you, soul flayed bare.
How could I keep a thing from you, my love?
I do not know who I write this to.
Seemingly divine, who is Katja addressing as ‘my love’?
Riddle me *that*, Cloud.